


i carry your heart

by LT_Aldo_Raine



Series: You, Me, and a Melody [a collection of BabeRoe songfics] [4]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Louisiana, Love, M/M, Made For Each Other, Post-Canon, Post-War, Returning Home, True Love, and goddamn it they love each other, ee cummings, i love these boys so so so much, poem fic/song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LT_Aldo_Raine/pseuds/LT_Aldo_Raine
Summary: “When I go,” Gene had told Babe. “—I carry yo’ heart with me, carry it in my heart, so m’never without it.”OR: After the war, Gene and Babe find peace together, peace in a love so profound and pure that it must be some kind of fate.





	i carry your heart

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't technically a song, but poetry is the music of love. So...
> 
>  
> 
> [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] – ee cummings
> 
> i carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
> my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
> i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done  
> by only me is your doing,my darling)  
> i fear  
> no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
> no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
> and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
> and whatever a sun will always sing is you  
> ///  
> here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
> (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
> and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
> higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
> and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
> ///  
> i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Eugene Roe was a man gifted with a heart full of grace, a soul generated by love.

Many thought that Gene’s magic lied in his healing hands, but the truth of it was that Gene’s true power came in his ability to love deeply and freely, fiercely and earnestly. His love was unconditional and never-ending. He loved with a love so profound and sincere that the receiver _felt it in his bones,_ could feel the affection, tender and unyielding, of Gene’s love creep and crawl up his spine to settle around his shoulders, heavy on his chest like a child’s blanket, warm and _right_ and comforting.

Babe Heffron was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Gene’s love for over half of his life.

The first time that the Cajun touched his bare skin, Babe could have sworn that he had been shocked, the sheer electricity of the other man’s touch causing gooseflesh to rise on arms and stealing his very breath. The first time that Gene had kissed him, Babe went weak—actually weak—in the knees, his legs buckling, hands scrambling for purchase on the other man to steady himself. In that moment, Gene was—as he has been ever since—Babe’s anchor to the world.

The first time that Gene had made love to him, Babe had cried. Honest to God, tears poured from the redhead’s eyes—tears of gratitude, tears of overwhelming joy and pleasure and hope, hope for a future, hope for _more, more, more_ of Gene Roe. The first time that Gene had whispered “je t’aime, Edward” into his flesh, lips moving against a freckled shoulder, breath hot and familiar on his skin, Babe knew that he would do whatever he must to keep this man—this wonderful, beautiful, selfless, generous man—at his side for the rest of his life, and if it was possible, for the rest of time after that.

Gene had become a part of Babe. They were—the two of them—inseparable. Wherever one went, surely the other was there, if not in actuality, then carried there in the heart and hands and soul and mind of the other.   

“When I go,” Gene had told Babe once—once a long, long time ago, back in the beginning, just after the war, mere weeks after the pair had found a little shotgun shack nestled quietly away in the swamp—when Gene had to drive to Mississippi for a job that would see him away from their bed—from his love—for two weeks’ time. It was the first occasion the pair would be separated since they had discovered peace in one another’s arms. “When I go,” Gene had told Babe. “—I carry yo’ heart with me, carry it in my heart, so m’never without it.”

Gene had clutched Babe’s hands in his own, the tangled mess of palms and fingers held dearly against his bare chest, just above his beating heart. The dark-haired Cajun planted a firm, telling kiss on the back of Babe’s hand and repeated himself. “Never without it…”

Babe did not believe in fate, but he believed in Gene. He knew that whatever Gene said was gospel, had more faith in Gene’s words and promises than he did in any God or higher power that may or may not have existed. And, indeed, there was something spiritual about Eugene Roe. He was ethereal—beautiful and beguiling, exquisite and enchanting. Hair so black it shone blue in the moonlight, a soft moonlight that glowed like Gene’s pale skin that warmed to a delightful golden honey in the summer sun. Ancient worlds used to look to the moon and sun for guidance, for understanding, but Babe only looked to his love. For the redhead, Gene was whatever a moon was meant to be, was a song sung by the brilliant, blinding sun.

And in their home—their world, the roots that Gene and Babe had established for themselves, deeply rooted and sprouting strong branches, the foundation of a life that they would have, would grow in, _together_ —Babe’s heart grew and grew and grew in the shade of Gene’s love, grew bigger and higher than a mind could have imagined, than a soul could ever hope. There in the swamps of lower Louisiana, Babe and Gene were two souls entwined, two hearts that met and molded and pounded as one.

This was the deepest secret nobody knew.

Gene’s magic came not from the power of his healing hands. The true gift of Eugene Roe was his ability to love with a heart full of grace and a soul generated by love—and in his heart there was only room for one other. 

“I carry your heart, my Edward, ma moitié,” whispered Gene, his words like a vow, a fundamental truth, a promise made eternal, binding Gene to Babe forever and ever more. “I carry it in m’heart.”

 


End file.
